Crashing Up
by k o u s e n
Summary: » getting crunked in the flower patch ». [olette naimine kairi yuffie] ¤


**» Crashing Up  
**----------------------------------------------

**CRUNK IT UP: **

His hands on her skin, sliding, touching, burning her senses. She arched her back and cried and begged for him to let her go, to come closer, to just do something and stop this torture. His lips were on her neck, shoulder, everywhere he could reach. Her vision blurred as he kissed her—he smelled like a beer and tasted like one too. Her back was in the dirt, crushing the flowers beneath her. The shovel lay just out of reach as she extended her arm, reaching for anything to hold onto.

He thrust his hips and pulled on hers and said her name as she asked for his. She knew him all too well for him to be just a stranger yet she knew nothing about him other than he had pretty eyes and a pretty face and a determination to make her his in this flower patch.

Her friends had been waiting nearly an hour, surely. She arched towards him, whether trying to get him off or trying to get him closer, she wasn't even sure. Her nails dug into his arm the way the rock in the ground dug into her back. She gasped nonsense when he called her name and screamed when the shovel finally reached her. Her blood doused the flowers as his hands moved along her side, his eyes closed and a smirk on his face.

Little did her friends know, while they were waiting for her she was getting crunked in a flower patch and he was filling a watering can with her blood.

**DUST BUNNIES:**

Her hand held tightly to the metal door frame as she looked around the empty room. It was dark and smelled mostly of mildew and dust with a hint of old air freshener that needed its filter changed. Her steps were carefully placed as she made her way across the room. Her footfall echoed throughout the entire building.

She reached an old desk; papers scattered and covered in dust. Her fingers trailed over the wood of the desk, bumping a pencil and causing it to clatter to the floor. She jumped and gasped at the sudden noise, hand going over her heart as if that mere motion would calm the rate of its beat.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she spun around. He seemed familiar but she couldn't place him. She blushed and opened her mouth a few times, foundering when she found no excuse to blurt out. She was going to apologize, but she didn't have time before her body hit the floor and her blood hit the carpet.

**MISS MURDERED:**

He follows her everywhere she goes, the sound of her footsteps masking the sound of his. She never notices that he's always there, around the corner or down the street. He's just another face in the crowd and that's all he could ever hope to be. Until now. He'll be something more to her. He'll be the most important person in her life forever and a day.

She smiles sweetly and takes the offered flower from the lady in the flower shop. She closes her eyes and smiles the most genuine smile anyone could ever muster up. She leans forward just enough to emphasize her gratitude, her smile never faltering as she strikes up a conversation.

She walks on, twirling the stem of the daisy between her fingers, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, touching the shoulder of the old man at the bakery as she asks if he needs any help today. He watches her movements, memorizes them, and files them in his brain under the bulging category of _her_.

She stops at the café where he first saw her and speaks to one of the waiters, one of her friends, about something he's too far away to hear. She's smiling again—still—and her eyes are shining. She's leaving with a smoothie as her friend stops her, tucks the flower behind her ear and smiles. She smiles back at him and moves on.

She's crossing her street when he feels his fingers clasp. They work, moving with his arm as they tighten, pulling the trigger and making a bang flow through the air. She falls to the ground in the middle of the street. The flower is crushed on impact. Now, he's the most important person in her life. He's her murderer.

**RUNAWAY:**

She's wandering through the night, through the alleys, through the darkness. She's pulling her hoodie closer to her body and shivering in the cold night air. She's seeing everything from drug deals to stray cats and she's feeling about ready to cry. She just wants to go home but it's not like she can. So, playing with matches _is_ stupid but maybe running with scissors makes her feel dangerous. She never meant to hurt anyone and she never meant to be wanted by the police for something so stupid as killing that kid's hamster.

Or, in this case, that kid's prized hamster breeding program that was half way to the cure for cancer.

She wandered through the alleyways into the main street of what many people called the 'Black Rose' part of town. The roses didn't grow red here because there was enough red with all the blood. She stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk and stepped into the street. She stood under a street light for a few minutes, wondering what to do. She wasn't in terribly big trouble but she sure as hell felt like it and wasn't even sure why she was out here tonight and not in her bed at home, watching television or reading a book.

She saw headlights and stepped into the shadows as someone walked past her. She never knew what hit her.

(_A drive-by bullet went stray up on the block_.)

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**an.** Did you know that 'crunk' is in the dictionary? Well,  
it is. It means 'feeling crazy and drunk and wild' and  
it's also a term used in hip-hop and rap. Well, it now  
has another meaning :D

I just felt like writing something and this WHOLE thing  
came from the line I came up with (just last night  
too, so it's COPYRIGHT me.) "getting crunked in the  
flower patch." That line really makes me think of  
Alice in Wonderland xD

**&**Iown**everything**nothing


End file.
